The Searchers
by The First Architect
Summary: They thought leaving Paradise was a good idea. They were wrong.
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: I do not own _I Am Number Four_.**

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**Chapter One  
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_Leverage - _power or ability to act or to influence people, events, decisions, etc.

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Sam thinks it is hysterical that I have never seen Pocahontas.

"So you're telling me you came up with John Smith all by yourself?..." There is a grin on his face that makes me scowl slightly. "…That there was no influence from the ruggedly handsome, blond haired, blue eyed explorer of the world himself?" He pauses for a second, tapping his chin, "Actually, now that I think about it, you two are scary alike."

"I told you I've never seen Pocahontas." I sit straighter in the truck seat and cross my arms. "And I was going to go with John Doe but—"

Sam bursts out into a fit of laughter and I snap my mouth shut.

"Are you _serious_?" He says between deep breathes. He wipes at his eyes, smiling like a Christmas tree. "_John Doe_?"

"I'd never been a J name before Paradise," I say in defense.

Sam is still smiling but tilts his head in acceptance. "O-okay. Just thank God you let me chose your name this time."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, like Reid Murdock is so much better than John Smith or John Doe."

Sam's eyes flash with mock hurt. "What? You don't like it?"

"A Reed is a plant, Sam. It lives in wetlands." I raise an eyebrow. "Are you telling me you think I'm a plant?"

"It's spelled differently," he mumbles, "it's _semantics_."

"Well maybe next time you can give me an actual _girl's_ name," Six says from the driver's seat. Her hair is pulled back loosely and her arm is hanging out the window of the truck. "Now I know I wasn't born here, but from my travels I'm pretty sure _Rhyan_ is a guy's name."

"Good God. I'm getting grief from two aliens named after _numbers_," Sam pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, "Again, it's spelled differently. There is an H in your name," he paints to Six, "and an I in your name," he wags a finger at me. "Plus, they rhyme. Rhyan and Reid Murdock. How perfect for a brother and sister."

"But we aren't related," I say, giving him a hard time.

"Well no one else besides me needs to know that."

"And no one else will," Six says, turning right to pull into the internet café across the street from the movie theater. She rolls into a parking spot and shuts of the engine.

We are in St. Louis, Missouri and it has been eight month since we left Paradise, Ohio. Leaving and staying away is every bit as hard as I thought it was going to be. Sarah invades my dreams constantly, and I'm starting to forget her smile, which terrifies me. I write her when I know it's safe. And every once in a while she'll send a picture with a letter, scribbling the amount of time we've been separated on the back. As of five days ago, it was _348,480 minutes_.

The last I heard, she won the photography contest that she had entered when I was still in Paradise, which included a 5,000 dollar college scholarship and two cruise tickets around the Mediterranean. She was planning on taking me with her. Now, given the circumstances, she gave the tickets to her parents and they are sending postcards from Sicily.

Considering the length of time we've gone without any news of perusing Mogadorians, Six has lightened up on the usual 'lay low' tactic. Tonight is our second outing as the mysterious Murdock siblings. A few acquaintances from Roosevelt High School, the current one Sam, Six and I are attending, invited us to the movies.

Sam is ditching to do some research about the other Loric and their locations.

"Are you sure you don't want to join?"

Sam hops out of the truck, "I'm sure. I don't like those slapstick comedies."

I shrug as Six shuts the driver's side door and joins me. "We'll tell you how it is," I say.

"Happy hunting," Six says.

Sam makes his way towards the small shops front door and waves over his shoulder.

We both watch him disappear into the store and turn to face the theater. There is a line eight deep in front of the glass enclosed ticket booth. Movie posters for upcoming movies hand in the large windows and there is a group of teenagers huddled together to the left.

A girl in the group lifts her head up, locks with my eyes and waves at us with a smile. I nod back and Six and I head over.

"Remind me why I had to come?" Six asks from beside me. She switches off her Australian accent effortlessly and I flash her an impressed smile. She gives me a 'don't start' look and says, "How are they supposed to believe we're related if I talk differently? And again, why did I have to come?"

I crack a small grin. "Well, that's a funny story, actually. See the guy next to Tiffany, the girl who just waved at me?"

Six follows my gaze and nods, "Yeah."

"Apparently he thinks you're hot," I shrug simply. "And Tiffany thinks he's hot. And he wasn't going to come unless you did."

"So I'm being used?"

"Yes," I nod.

She rolls her eyes and shoves me away playfully with a smile. I dodge and swat at her hand when she tries again. We approach the group and I smile at how relaxed Six has been recently. It's good seeing her calm.

"Hey Reid," Tiffany smiles.

"Hey," I respond, lightly hugging her and then shaking hands with Carter Owens, the boy who thinks Six is hot. I shake Matt Thomas' hand, a soccer player, and head nod to another soccer player whose name I can't recall.

"What's up, Rhyan," Carter greets with a wide smile.

"Hey," Six replies, forcing a small smile of her own.

We stand in an awkward silence for a moment, Six and I on the outside of the tight nit group. After a moment's pause I say, "So, how 'bout we go inside? It's getting a bit chilly out here."

The two girls behind Matt and the soccer player I can't remember, Ivy and Violet, smiling enthusiastically even though it's seventy-two outside.

Once inside I slip off my jacket and throw it over my arm. The lobby is crowded and is quite larger than many of the movie theaters I've been in before. There is an unmanned piano in the center emitting a light, melancholy melody. A small table with two chairs is behind the piano, and the surface flashes between checkers and chess.

"Oh cool!" Matt slides past me and sits down in the chair. The other soccer player joins him and they engage in a digital game of checkers.

"I'm gonna get some popcorn," Six says in a desperate attempt to get away from Carter Owens and his fawning eyes.

I smile slightly as she pushes past me and stands in line. Suddenly I am alone in a group of girls who can't stop looking at me. "Umm," my cheeks flush as I try to find the start to an appropriate conversation. "I have to go to the bathroom," I announce.

Tiffany's smile drops slightly, but she nods. "You want me to hold your jacket?"

"Sure," I hand her the coat and head towards the bathroom.

I wash my hands three times and dry them twice. Returning to the girls is not at the top of my to-do list, but Six would kill me if I ditched. Throwing some water on my face, I take a deep breath and push through the bathroom door into the lobby.

It takes me only a second to realize something is wrong. There is a crowd gathering at the front of the theater and Six is sprinting towards me.

"The café," she says urgently and grabs my arm.

She doesn't have to pull me. I am suddenly sprinting beside her towards the exit. We shove past the group of people gathered at the theater doors and I faintly hear Tiffany yelling at me and Carter yelling at Six. We ignore them and dash out the doors, across the street and stop in front of the building.

People are rushing out of the café's small entrance, fear and terror etched across their faces. Six grabs my arm once again and I turn to look at her. She asks me a silent question, and I nod my head ever so slightly. She sighs and enters the café first.

There is a man at the cash register. He's waving a gun at the cashier.

Six pulls me down and we crouch behind a small table. The man with the gun doesn't seem all that concerned about the people leaving. He's just focused on getting his money.

I scan the remaining people in the café looking for Sam. The computers are towards the back, lined against the wall. But he is not there.

"John," Six's hand is on my shoulder. I look towards the front again and figure out why I could not find Sam. He is on the ground at the feet of the shooter, holding a hand against the side of his face. There is blood slipping from between his fingers.

I clench my fist and turn back to Six. "Did you bring one?"

She nods slightly, "I always do."

I have suddenly found a new respect in Six's paranoia. "I'll get Sam. Do you think—?"

"It won't be a problem." She straightens slightly, looks around to make sure nobody looks at her, then she is gone.

I move forward around a table and wait for Six to make her move.

The man with the gun is slurring slightly, waving the death machine at the scared teenage girl behind the counter. And then it happens. One moment he is standing, and then next he is on the ground, the gun knocked from his hand.

I rush forward, grab Sam and haul him up. We dash towards the back and push through the emergency exit door. A shrill screech sounds from the small café's emergency exit, but I am already out the door with Sam. We are in the overflow parking lot in the back of the store, and rush towards the back row where no one can see us.

Sam is panting and he props himself against a parked car. "Sorry," he wheezes. "It seems that my Legacy is Danger Magnet."

I chuckle slightly and look at the head wound. It is small, but deep.

"We might have to work on that," Six appears beside us in the blink of an eye, holding a healing stone in her hand.

Sam eyes the small rock. "I guess it's time to test if it works on humans?"

Six nods and says, "Take a deep breath." Sam obeys and she places the stone against the side of his head. His jaw clenches immediately, veins popping out in his neck. His face turns red and his chest does not move for seconds. I know all too well that the rock seems to freeze your breathing.

Six pulls the rock away after a minute and the cut on the side of Sam's face is gone. She grins as Sam catches his breath, "This is good news."

Sam clutches at his chest, "Jesus. That hurt more than the initial pistol whip."

Something inside me sighs with relief. Finally we get a break. Finally, there is some good news in this war. Our human friends are able to be healed by our Loric technology.

"I'm curious if we still have to heal humans right away," Six turns to me. "Maybe the time limit doesn't exist with them?"

I nod. It would be interesting to find out.

Sam looks from Six to me and then shakes his head. "Aww hell no. I am not going back in there to get shot, or shanked, or whatever just so you two can play mad scientist. Uh-uh. No way."

I smile. "Relax."

Six tilts her head, "What's shanked?"

Sam groans and stands. "Can we please get out of here?"

Six stands and I get to my feet as well. "Oh man," I lean back and tilt my head towards the night sky. "Tiffany has my jacket. My phone's in the pocket."

Six rolls her eyes. "Just great. I barely got away from that Carter Owens the first time. He kept trying to hold my hand." She shivers.

Sam snickers and Six punches his arm lightly. I shake my head with a smile and start towards the entrance of the movie theater. I can hear sirens in the distance and hurry towards the door; Six and Sam close on my heels. We certainly don't want to be out there when the cops show up.

The moment we enter the theater, Tiffany and the group are rushing towards us, eyes frantic.

"What the hell was that, Reid!" She throws her arms around me. "God. You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

I spy Carter Owens out of the corner of my eye, trying horribly to consol Six. She's getting better about the whole mindset that 'human-men-are-supposed-to-be-the-stronger-gender' thing. Still, it really seems to bother her when men feel like she's this small, fragile woman.

I pull Tiffany back gently, "Sorry. I had to see if my friend was alright," I motion behind me to Sam, who smiles sheepishly. "Thank goodness he got out with the majority of the people."

She sighs with relief and I shake Carter's hand and hug the other girls lightly. We start to talk and I realize that what had seemed like thirty minutes in the café was only ten minutes. Our movie is about to start.

I reach in my back pocket for my wallet to give Sam some money for a ticket, but realize it's also in my jacket pocket. "My jacket," I nod towards the clothing draped over Tiffany's arm. "I can take it back. Thanks for holding it."

She goes to give it back to me, but pulls it away when I reach for it, her eyes curious. "Who's Sarah Hart?"

I freeze, my chest tight. Six stops her cheerfully fake conversation and turns to the two of us. I lick my lips, clearing my throat. "She was a girl I knew," Tiffany cocks a hip and I can feel sweat slid down my neck. "Why do you ask?"

Tiffany shrugs. "Your phone rang when you were out playing hero. It said Sarah Hart on the caller ID." I honestly do not know what to do. When I destroyed my old phone, I secretly kept her number, texted her my new one without a signature. I figured she'd be smart enough to know who it was.

"What did she say?" I manage to ask through my uncooperative throat. I am aware of Six burning a hole in the back of my neck with a glare.

"That's why I asked," Tiffany says, eyebrows furrowed. "It wasn't a girl who called. It was some guy. He said that Paradise had fallen and there was a message waiting for Number Four." She smiles, "Whatever the hell that means, right?" she laughs nonchalantly.

I am hit with a wave of dizziness so strong that I almost stagger. If it weren't for Six's sudden hand on my shoulder, I would have fallen over. My stomach is somersaulting with helplessness and there is a sudden need to leave. To get out of here and go to Sarah. And I suddenly regret ever leaving her. Something inside of me dies out.

"We have to go," I whisper.

"What?" Tiffany asks, and everyone is suddenly looking at me.

"We have to leave," I repeat and lock eyes briefly with Sam and Six. Sam nods instantly, and I can see the need behind his orbs to get home. To make sure his friend is alright. Six is more hesitant, but seems to understand in a split second that I am not asking her to leave. I am telling her.

I grab my jacket; shoot forward to kiss Tiffany on the cheek and say, "Have a good life."

Then the three of us are out the door and sprinting towards the truck. Bernie Kosar sticks his head out of the bed and looks at me with questioning eyes. I haven't completely figured out my animal legacy, but I know he realizes something is wrong.

I jump into the driver's seat and Six piles into the middle. Sam slams the door shut and whips out his laptop while I pull out of the parking lot.

"According to MapQuest it will take us eight and a half hours to get there if we go the speed limit."

I reeve the engine, gripping the steering wheels with white knuckles.

Sam swallows, "That's what I thought." He flicks his wrist and looks at his watch. "It's nine forty now. That means we'll get there around four forty – maybe five. But it's the end of the month, John. Cops will be out, especially if we take the major roads."

"That's the fastest way," I say.

"I can make us invisible," Six says. "But I don't know how long I can hold it or how much it will take out of me. I've never tried to hide something this big before."

Sam nods again and rummages through his backpack. Seconds later he pulls out a rectangular box that closely resembles a DVR. He yanks out the cigarette lighter from the center counsel and plugs in the machine. "I thought this might come in handy considering both your current life choices."

I lift an eyebrow. "What is it?"

Sam smiles. "It's a police scanner. See this little needle," he points to the small digital screen, "it starts to tick in the direction of a cop car. This'll give us enough warning for Six to make us invisible."

I nod, focus on Paradise, Ohio and Sarah, and floor it. The truck jumps forward, and we are on I-55 North before any one of us realize it.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

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_"When I saw you I fell in love. And you smiled because you knew." - Arrigo Boito_

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We are twenty miles from Paradise.

Six has switched spots with Sam so that she can be closer to the window. She's managed to turn the car, and all of use, invisible four times, and the effort is taking its toll. She looks exhausted and there is a constant sheet of sweat on her brow.

Sam hands her a bottle of water that he has been trying to keep cool in the small cooler in the bed of the truck. She accepts it with a weak smile and drinks the contents gratefully. The radio cracks in the background as we start to pick up Paradise radio stations.

I turn up the radio when the news anchor starts talking about the small town.

"_An unexpected system of powerful storms unleashed tornadoes and flooding across the Midwest yesterday morning. A slow-moving storm packing tornadoes and hail battered rural Ohio, tearing up trees, destroying houses, and eliminating all contact with the small town of Paradise, southwest of Cleveland. Communication with the town is still down, but local police departments expect to establish radio contact soon."_

I turn to Sam, eyes wide.

He shakes his head and whips out his laptop. "I don't remember hearing anything about that," he says in a panic. He types fast, pulling up a website I cannot see. Seconds later, he curses. "This thing came out of nowhere. _Nowhere_." He turns the screen towards me, and I glance to it and then back to the road multiple times while he explains.

"See this air pressure right here?" He circles a red line that is flowing north. "This is warm air. The only way to create a storm is if a low pressure system meets this." He hits the spacebar on the laptop and the picture starts to move. In second, a blue line manifests itself out of nowhere and hits the red line. "Which is exactly what happened at one forty-seven yesterday morning. But there was no warning. This system just…_created_ itself above Paradise."

I don't say anything; just continue to watch the looping footage. Six has propped herself up against the door and I glance to her briefly. We are both thinking the same thing but realize that it is impossible. We know Loric can control the elements. Six, herself can do it. And we both know none of us would join the Mogadorians. None of us would ever do that…

"Watch it!" Sam shuts his laptop and braces himself for impact.

My eyes snap towards the road and I swerve just in time to veer around a fallen power line. Then a large oak that has fallen across the road. I can barely see out of the line of my headlights, but I pick up dark shapes out of my peripherals. I slow down as we pass the small _Welcome to Paradise, Ohio: Population 5, 243_. Trees have been uprooted from the ground and some of the houses have lost their roofs.

The town is deserted.

We crawl along at a snail's pace so that I can avoid all of the debris that has been blown across the road. Cars have had their windows shatter by hail. Branches have been broken off the trees that have not fallen down or been uprooted by the storm.

With each passing second, the pit of despair in my stomach grows. I am no longer afraid of what I might find at the Hart residence. I am terrified.

"Holy…" Sam sits forward in the seat, eyes roaming the devastation.

Even Six is paying attention, though she still looks completely drained. "How did they find out?" she mumbles. "We left no trace."

"But they knew we were here." I stress. "Maybe they figured that out of all the time we spent here, we left something of importance behind." I nearly snarl the last part, disgusted with myself. Because they were right.

"We're gonna find her," Sam reassures. But his voice is so weak; I don't think he even believes himself. I know what he is thinking. We _will_ find her. It's just I'm afraid _how_ we are going to find her. Looking around at the devastation, I know the chances can't be good.

I nearly break down when we pull up to Sarah's driveway. A tree has fallen onto the right side of the house, and the woodwork above the front stoop has been ripped free. The gravel shifts against the tires of the truck as I pull to a stop and switch off the engine.

I jump out of the truck, Sam close on my heels. My heart is hammering against my ribcage and I'm afraid it might break through. I realize my legacies are fueled by emotion and take advantage of that. The wooden beams lying diagonally across the entrance to the destroyed home are pushed away with a simple flick of my hand.

"_Sarah!_" I yell once I get inside the house. I stagger over fallen beams. I look to the stairs, which seem to be still in tacked.

"Don't try it," Sam pleads from behind me. "Those don't look sturdy."

"She might be up there."

"_Sarah!_" Sam yells, cupping him hands over his mouth. He waits intently in the silence.

There is nothing.

He looks to me and shakes his head ever so slightly.

"Then where?" I snap.

Part of the house to my left collapses and Six curses as she staggers in. "We need to make this quick," she says, keeping a hand against the doorframe for support. I cannot tell if the damage inside the house is from the storm or the Mogadorians. I figure that's what they had wanted. To disguise their attack on the small town with the storm.

I push into the kitchen. Bernie Kosar runs past my legs and goes straight to the basement door. He plops down, and scratches against the broken frame with a whine. He turns to look at me, his eyes large and watery. I don't know if dogs can cry, but he is close to it.

There is something in his look that stops my heart. I freeze for a second, realizing that I am not ready for what I might find down there. If Sarah Hart is dead, I will be too.

After a second of hesitation, I rush forward, yelling, "Over here!"

The stairs are in mild condition and squeak under my weight. The ceiling in sagging to my right and I realize the support beam has been taken out. Several overhead beams have fallen, some still attacked to the ceiling on one end. An eerie light flickers in from the multiple broken windows. When I step into the basement and move a fallen piece of wood out of my way, I hear something.

It sounds like a voice. Weak and fragile, but a voice all the same. I scan the darkness and then lift up my hand. My legacy flickers on and I sweep over the room.

I find her to my right.

"_Sarah!_" I yell and vault over a beam lying in my path. Wood has fallen on top of her and I push it away in seconds.

She has been tied to a chair, her hands secured behind her back. Her ankles have been fastened to the legs and the chair has been tipped sideways. By the Mogadorians or the storm, I do not know. Her wrists have been rubbed raw and the ropes are caked red. The left side of her face is smeared with blood from a deep cut in her hairline.

"Sarah…Sarah?" I whisper, brushing away the hair that has fallen into her face. I nearly jump back in surprise.

Her eyes are half open and she is panting irregularly. "…John?..." she whispers.

My throat closes up on me. "Yeah, I'm here," I manage. How long has she been conscious? Ever since this happened? God, I can't even imagine…

I can feel Sam behind me, but he is keeping his distance. Six staggers past him and crouches.

"…stupid…" Sarah whispers, panting. "…you shouldn't…have come…"

Six withdrawals a knife and cuts each one of Sarah's ankles free. Her legs fall to the floor and her hips turn. She grits her teeth and whimpers, tears streaming down her cheeks. Six cuts the ropes around Sarah's wrists swiftly. She falls forward and I catch her around the shoulders.

To my horror, the back of the chair is smeared with blood. I feel the red substance on my hands just as my mind tells me that it's coming from Sarah. I lift up her shirt and find blue and purple bruises, deep and painful. Ribs are broken. To the bottom right of her abdomen there is a hole seeping blood. An identical exit wound is on her back.

"Look," Sam whispers, pointing to a metal rod lying a few feet away. It's caked with blood. Sarah's blood. I clench my fist in rage and grind it against the floor.

Sam crouches close to me and picks up something that I can't recognize. After a moment of analysis he shows it to me. It is a DVD and _Number Four_ is scribbled on the case. My jaw locks and Sam pockets the disk.

Bernie Kosar starts to bark and whine. The beagle walking in circles.

"We have to leave," Six looks up, "_Now_."

"Don't talk," I say to Sarah and turn to Sam, "Can you help me with her?"

He nods and visibly swallows, stepping forward.

I lift Sarah up, try to ignore her small cries of pain and slip my arm around her back. She lifts her arm and puts it around my shoulder. Sam stands on the other side and tries to lift her right arm, but her cry makes him flinch.

"…something's…wrong…" she says between clenched teeth.

Sam nods and runs his hand along her shoulder and arm. "It's dislocated," he informs us moments later. Instead of lifting her arm, he wraps his around her waist, ignores the blood and helps us take a step forward.

Sarah limps heavily and bits her lip. We take another step. Then another. Slowly we move up the stairs and maneuver through the kitchen. The trek takes everything from Sarah and when we exit her house, Sam and I are practically carrying her.

There are angry shouts in the distance and my adrenaline starts to rage.

"Get in the bed!" I yell at Sam, who runs towards the truck, picks up Bernie Kosar and jumps in the back. He throws the clothe bags into the front cabin through the small window while Six jumps into the driver's seat and turns on the engine.

I stumble to the back of the truck with Sarah. In one massive push off, I launch her and myself into the bed. As soon as my feet hit the metal Six throws the truck into drive and speeds down what's remaining of the Hart's gravel driveway.

A group of four Mogadorians emerge from the woods to our left, yelling and aiming weapons. With a roar of rage, I rip the left side of Sarah's house away and drop it on the scouting party. I cannot enjoy my kill for very long before Sam is calling my name.

I turn and collapse next to Sarah, who's chest is rising in short, desperate pants.

"Healing stone?" Sam asks in a frantic voice.

I shake my head. "It's been too long," I mumble. The truck jerks and I fall backwards, landing hard on my butt. I look at Sarah, lock with her eyes and can't seem to look away. She's bleeding. She's in pain. And it's all my fault.

"We have to stop the bleeding," Sam says in the background.

I don't move. All I can see is red. The devastation I witnessed on Lorien flashes in front of my eyes. The meaningless slaughter of my own people. Now Sarah has joined them. Another innocent hurt in this bloodthirsty war. And it seems that the only thing I can do is watch in the background, unable to do anything to stop it.

"_John!_" Sam slaps me hard across the cheek. I turn numbly to him, blinking in surprise. "We. Have. To. Stop. The. Bleeding." He says with urgency.

I nod and swallow. "Right," I rock to the balls of my feet. "Right. Uhh, get the bag of clothes."

Sam crouches and tries to keep his balance as he reaches through the small window leading into the cabin of the truck.

I lean over Sarah and tuck the stray hairs out of her eyes. "You're gonna be fine," I reassure. She doesn't say anything, just nods her head slightly and clenches her jaw. Her hand finds mine and I interlace our fingers.

Sam hands me the clothes bag. I unzip it and pull out a t-shirt. Gently, I lift Sarah up and slip the shirt around her stomach. I grab another shirt, place it against the through-and-through wound on her abdomen and then Sam ties the other shirt around as a bandage. She whimpers and turns her face into my chest.

"She needs to get to a hospital," Sam says, gently pressing against Sarah's dislocated shoulder.

"We can't," I whisper and Sam's mouth nearly drops open. "They'll ask too many questions. She won't be safe in such a public place, either. The Mogadorians know who she is now. They know she means something to me."

"She'll die—"

"Don't you think I know that!" I snap. I run a frantic hand over my face and feel wetness coming from the corners of my eyes. I shake my head and let out a shaky sigh, "God, I know that, Sam…"

"…I'm fine…" Sarah tries to assure us. It is a valiant effort, but she's lying through her chattering teeth.

"I do know this guy," Sam begins, pulling out one of his NASA shirts and ripping it into strips. "He's a family friend. I haven't talked to him in about four years." He takes two strips and gingerly takes Sarah's right arm. He lifts it and puts the palm of her hand close to her opposite shoulder and ties one of the strips across her wrist, securing the top of her arm to her chest. He takes the second strip and ties it down across her elbow, securing the bottom part of her arm to her stomach.

He sits back and studies his handiwork. "Does it hurt?" he asks over the howling wind.

Sarah is silent for a moment. "It feels…better," she says finally.

Sam nods and looks back to me. "Anyway. This guy I know. He used to work for Doctors Without Borders."

"What does that mean?"

"It means he was a really good doctor. And I mean _really good_."

I am not missing the past tense he is putting at the end of the words. But for some reason, the only thing my mind can focus on is 'friend' and 'doctor'. "Is he close?"

Sam nods. "In Cleveland. It's about an hour's drive," he pauses and bits his lip. "But I haven't talked to him in ages, John. He might not even remember me."

"Please, Sam." I glance briefly to Sarah and her half closed eyes. "Anything that might help."

Sam unhinges the sliding window that leads into the cabin of the truck. Gently, he lowers himself through the small opening and into the front. Six asks him a question that I can't hear, but given the tone of Sam's response, it is something about Sarah.

I shift my weight and lean back against the cabin, pulling Sarah into my lap. Her back rests against my chest and I wrap my arms around her shivering body.

"_Hey, Mr. Harris!_" I can hear the slight panic in Sam's voice. "_Yeah, this is Sam Goode. Yeah, I haven't heard from you in a long time either. Look man—yeah my mom's fine—but I have to—yeah, my dad's still missing—Look, Mr. Harris—Mr. Harris! Man, seriously, I'm calling because I'm in a shit load of trouble—no, not drugs—no I didn't kill anyone—Look, it's my friend. She's hurt really bad. I need you to look at her—No. Hospitals are out. Yeah, I'm sure—Okay…Okay. Yeah. I can do that….In about forty-five minutes to an hour…Yeah, she's stable. For now we've stopped the bleeding…You still have all your stuff? That's great…Yeah I remember. Okay, just be ready, okay?...and Mr. Harris, thank you. Really, I mean that…Okay. Bye."_

I hear Sam hang up and mumble something to Six. Her answer is the truck picking up pace. The next second, there is a thick blanket draped over my shoulder.

"You have to keep her warm," Sam informs me from the cabin.

I nod and lift Sarah off of me. I gently wrap the blanket around her body and then return her to my arms. She is stretched out on top of me because I fear that if I move her, her broken ribs will shift and puncture something.

"…they wanted me…to tell them where…you were…" Sarah says through chattering teeth.

It's what I have been afraid of ever since leaving. The Mogadorians have gotten lazy. Instead of looking for me directly, they're going through the people I've met. The destruction in Paradise is enough to prove that.

"Shhhh," I kiss the top of her head and wrap my arms tighter around her. "You need to stop talking. Save your strength."

"…Mark is dead…" she says in a soft voice. I look to her face and her bottom lip quivers ever so slightly. There is wetness running from the corners of her eyes and she takes a breath through her nose. "...it's how they found out…about me…"

I do not know what to say. I used to hate the man, but after he saved me and protected Sarah, I owed him so much. I am sad to think that I will never get to repay him for the courage he showed that fateful night.

"…They threatened…his parents…" she continues. "…it's why he…talked…"

I think about what she has said. I think that the Mogadorians had no leverage against her. Sarah's parents were out of town, therefore there was no way to get her to talk except torture. My stomach flips and I turn my head away, taking a deep, calming breath of the cold air whipping at my face.

Sarah Hart cares so much about other people and will do anything for someone on a dime if she thinks it will help. But she's stubborn as hell when it comes down to something that she thinks is wrong. And I know for a fact that the Mogadorians didn't get anything out of her, even with force.

There is a second that passes in silence and Sarah shifts in my arms. She rests the right side of her face against my chest and takes a small breath. "…I've missed you…so much…" she mumbles. "…How was…wherever you were?..."

There is a hint of curiosity in her voice and I chuckle lightly. I glance down to the side of her face and figure I can clean the blood off as I talk. I take another one of Sam's NASA shirts out and a bottle of water. I pour the cold liquid onto the fabric and gently dab at the dried blood on the side of her face.

"We were in St Louis," I answer. "And it was nothing like Paradise."

"…I've never been…" Sarah shakes her head slightly. "…did you get…a new name?…"

I smile. "Reid Murdock."

"…sounds like a…plant…"

"That's what _I_ said." I look back down to the cut and realize that the only thing I can see is the black asphalt that's supposed to be underneath the car. Which is funny because I can still feel Sarah in my arms. I just can't _see_ her.

"Hold tight," Sam says from the cabin and I can faintly hear the tick of the police scanner.

In the distance I can hear sirens. More than one. Seconds later, a line of cop cars speed past us on the other side of the road, red and blue lights flashing. Six lets a beat pass before she lets up on the invisibility.

"They're going to Paradise," Sam says.

"…They won't…find much," Sarah mutters. She licks her lips and rests her head back against my chest. "Did you meet…anyone in St. Louis?..."

"You mean did I meet any girls?" I chuckle at her attempt at nonchalance. When will she realize that I've already found my love? "Yes, I did meet girls. Though none of them were you."

I can feel her smile against my chest. The blood is gone, though the large gash remains. Her face, which usually harbors her signature smile, is pale and ashen. And I realize that she is losing too much blood. Or had lost too much blood before we had even gotten to her house.

Sarah lets out a shaky breath, and the air that leaves her mouth fogs out in front of her face. I panic slightly, "Are you cold?"

"…freezing…"

I open up the blanket a fraction of an inch and lift up her shirt. Her stomach snaps taunt against the cold and I place my hands against the skin under her secured right arm. I close my eyes and will my hands to glow. The light won't do anything, but my hands get hot whenever I turn them on.

Sarah turns her face into my chest and presses deeper into me. "They're warm," she mumbles. She takes a deep, shaky breath and says, "You're going…to kick their ass…for me, right?"

There's something in her voice that makes me feel like crying. "Of course I am," I laugh, trying to hide the panic. "And you'll be there to see it." She doesn't say anything and I can feel my shirt getting wet where her eyes are. I swallow the lump in my throat. "What college did you decide on?"

She wipes her eyes against my chest and sniffs once. "…The Academy of Art…University out of San Francisco. I've already…done early decision….I'll be going…in the fall."

I smile with pride. Based on my research, it's one of the top schools in the nation for photography. "I've been to California," I tell her, "A long time ago."

She nods in understanding but doesn't say anything.

"Sarah, you have to stay awake for me," I say in her ear. "You have to stay with me."

"I don't want to die, John," she whispers.

"You're not going to die, Sarah," I answer, and I nearly choke on them. I kiss the top of her head and then rest mine against the side of hers. "I still remember the first day I ever saw you," I say, and underneath the blanket I interlace our fingers.

"You were so shy," she laughs softly.

"And you were the most stunning person I'd ever seen."

We sit like that, my face inches from hers, in the bed of the truck. I tell her stories of times before I came to Paradise and make her ask questions and participate. I have to keep her talking, because if I can't hear her voice, then I don't know if she's okay.

And if Sarah Hart does not make it, then I will give up on everything.


	3. Chapter Three

Someone is shaking me awake, which is weird because I don't ever remember falling asleep. I lift my head through the grogginess of sleep and turn to find Sam sticking his head out of the front cabin.

"We'll be there in three minutes."

I nod and blink again. Sarah is still in my arms and to my surprise, my hands continued to glow, even in sleep. I lean down and shake her slightly. Her eyes blink open, but they are unfocused.

"Sarah," I say. She doesn't seem to register my voice. "Sarah?"

Her blue eyes shift up to me.

"…john…?" she whispers, shaking her head. "…I don't…feel good…"

A thin sheet of sweat has broken out on her brown and her lips have turned a light shade of purple. I sit up straighter and remove my hand from her stomach. It's covered in blood. Lifting up her shirt, I find that the white NASA t-shirt has been soaked through.

I maneuver Sarah in my arms and lay her down gently. Tears are streaming from the corners of her eyes and she has my hand in a vice like grip. "Don't let go," she whispers in a small, pleading voice.

"I won't," I assure, stroking her head. Quickly, I feel the car turn and realize we are weaving in and out through small neighborhood streets. Six slides into a turn and pulls sharply into a driveway. A man opens the door to the house and rushes out.

"Are you the doctor?" I yell over the truck engine.

He sticks out an already gloved hand, "Mr. Harris."

I shake his hand with my blood covered one. "John." I say, then turn to Sarah, "And this is Sarah Hart."

Six shuts off the engine and gets out of the truck, followed closely by Sam who has our bags thrown over his shoulders. Mr. Harris scans our small group for a second and I can see the cogs and wheel sin his head turning. Seconds later, he motions towards the front of the house, "Get her inside. My neighbors are rather nosy old bats. They'll probably call the neighborhood watch if we stay out here too long."

I slip my arms under the backs of her knees but Mr. Harris stops me. "Does she have chest or abdominal damage?"

"Ribs are broken," I answer with a nod of my head.

"She's going to have to walk. If you lift her up like that, we'll risk the chance of shifting something that's broken. I'd much rather her be in pain then us have to re-inflate one of her lungs."

I nod and turn back to her. I unlatch our fingers and slid my hand behind her back. She reaches up through her weakness and clutches my shoulder. I lift both of us up in one motion and her hand on my shoulder tightens enough to draw blood from her nails. We inch to the edge of the truck and I watch her eye the small drop to the concrete below.

"Step on my right foot," I whisper in her ear. She does and I lift my foot ever so slightly. It moves as if she isn't event even there. I hop off the edge of the truck, landing on my left foot and slowly lowering my right. We take a step towards the house as Sarah bites her lip.

Mr. Harris shuts the front door once we are inside and motions towards the kitchen table. "Put her there," he instructs and then disappears into the kitchen.

Six slips her arm around Sarah and Sam lifts her legs. We set her on the table gently. Mr. Harris returns with a red bag. He addresses Sarah's shoulder first and in seconds he has relocated it. Next he moves to the abdominal wound that is still bleeding somehow.

"I'm going to take this wrap off, Sarah, it might hurt." She nods loosely and he unties the knot and slowly unravels the soaked fabric. The hole still looks the same, and I clench my jaw in rage.

"John," Mr. Harris says. "I need you to roll her onto her left side."

I rest my hands on her side and lift, she complains softly, but rolls with it.

"It's a through and through," Mr. Harris says to himself, shining a penlight. He prods at the wound which brings a whimper from Sarah. Her hand tightens around mine. Mr. Harris looks up to me, eyebrows furrowed. He opens his mouth like he is going to say something, but seems to think better of it. He turns back to Sarah and continues his prodding. He presses lightly around Sarah's ribs and she screams in agony. I flinch at the sound.

"Four ribs are broken, maybe five. But no flail chest. That's good." He nods to himself and then reaches into his red bag. "She's lost a lot of blood. She'll need a transfusion. Anybody know her blood type?"

"Doesn't matter," Sam steps forward, "I'm O neg."

"That's good. That's real good," Mr. Harris says, "Because she's going to need a lot of it. Do you know how to tap a vein?"

Sam nods.

Mr. Harris smiles. The kinds of smile a father would give an achieving son. Sam flashes the smallest of smiles back that I don't miss. There is a funny feeling in my gut that tells me there is something more to their relationship. But now is not the time.

"Sarah, I'm going to give you morphine for the pain," the doctor pulls out a syringe and a small glass vial. Sarah nods her head against the table and tightens her hold on my hand. Once the tip of the needle vanishes beneath the skin of her forearm and the plunger is pushed down, she starts to relax. I panic slightly.

"It's okay, John," the doctor replies to my wide eyes and quickened breather. "The drugs put her under. The pain itself might kill her if I try and do this while she's awake. Her being relaxed makes this easier." Mr. Harris rummages around in his bag and pulls out a complicated looking set of clear tubing and bags.

He hands them to Sam who seems to know exactly what to do. My best friend ties an elastic band around his upper arm and then makes a fist several times. Using his opposite hand he finds the vein in the crook of his arm and pushes one of the needles attached to a long tube under his skin. Quickly, Sam does the same thing to Sarah's arm, finds a vein and pushes a needle into it.

"Okay, now that that's set, I need you," Mr. Harris points to Six, "to go into the kitchen. There's a tank, a monitor, a ventilator bag, and a, ah, blanket tied up with chord. Bring those in here. Also, fill a bowel with water and get a rag."

Six disappears and he points to me. "The boyfriend, right?"

I nod numbly.

"Okay, all I need you to do, John, is talk to her. You may think that she can't hear you, but she can. I want you to stay and tell her you're here. If she knows that, she'll get through this is one piece. " He pauses briefly and looks at me. "_I promise_," he says seconds later, and there is so much finality in his words that I believe him.

I swallow back the despair in my heart and squeeze Sarah's hand. Slowly, I brush the hair out of her eyes and whisper words of encouragement in her ear.

I watch as Mr. Harris pull out a scalpel from his bag. Six returns with what is needed and goes to the doctor's side. "Okay," the older man sighs, "let's get to work."

**-XxX-**

After two and a half hours and one pint of blood from Sam later, Sarah is finally stable enough to be moved to the guest bedroom. I sit on the floor by her bed, knees pulled up to my chest.

"You think it could be one of us?" Six asks from her seat next to the closed door.

I drop my head between my knees and rub the back of my neck. "I don't _want_ to think that," I say with a sigh. "But the evidence is pretty clear that someone affected the weather."

"Maybe the Mogadorians?" Sam imputes. He is lying on the floor, a band-aid in the crook of his arm and a damp cloth on his forehead. There is an empty bottle of apple juice by his head and a half eaten trail mix bar in his hand, "Some kind of new, unknown technology?"

Six shakes her head. "They didn't have anything like that on their homeworld. Let alone technology on this planet to build something like that." She sighs and rubs at her eyes. It is the first time that I have seen her look so tired.

"Maybe they got to one of us," she says. "Maybe they have leverage? Or some kind of control over him or her?"

"You think one of us turned?" I say skeptically.

"I _think_ that if they had taken Sarah instead of…" she trails off slightly and closes her eyes for a bit longer than a standard blink.

I nod in the silence. "I would have done anything to get her back," I admit. "Good point."

"Look man," Sam sits up, "I didn't want to bring this up now, but I still have the DVD."

I lock my jaw and clench my fist. I _know_ what is on the DVD.

"And there might be something useful on it," Sam continues. "Maybe they slipped up somewhere. Said something they shouldn't have."

There is silence and I know Sam is right.

"Fine," I say. "Get your laptop."

**-XxX-**

We crowd around the small screen as Sam slips in the DVD. The computer hums and the screen flashes. Someone lifts up the camera and the screen fades in and out of focus. Voices sound and Sarah's basement comes into view.

A single light is turned on, spilling an eerie glow over Sarah, who is already tied to the chair.

I take a sharp breath.

"Where is Number Four?" a voice off camera snarls.

Sarah lifts her chin, eyes hard and defiant. She flicks the hair out of her eyes with a small jerk of her head. "I don't know who you're talking about," she says calmly.

"You're a brave little human," another voice off camera laughs. But this one is different. This man's voice is composed and firm. It comes from someone who is used to being followed. "I can see why he fell for you." The man steps into view, but all we can see is his back. It is broad and muscular beneath his long leather jacket. "Please excuses my comrades, Sarah Hart, they are not well versed in Earth's ways. I shall rephrase the question, my dear. Where is the boy you call John Smith?"

Sarah has been caught off guard by the formal address. "How do you know my name?" I watch as she struggles unconsciously with her bound hands. His knowledge about her has made her uncomfortable.

"Mark James is quite the talker," another man sneers. "He told us everything with some help from his parents."

"Where are they?" She snaps, but her eyes are glossy with oncoming tears.

The man disappears behind the camera again with a dark laugh. "You will be seeing them quite soon, Ms. Hart. Don't you worry about that."

Sarah bits her lip and turns her head to the side. Through the faint light I can see a single tear run down her cheek.

"But back to business," the man in charge says. "Where is John smith?"

"Fuck you." She snaps, eyes blazing with rage.

I shut my eyes before one of the Mogadorians has time to hit her. But just because I can't see it doesn't mean I can't hear it. A hammer meeting a cinderblock is the sound, followed almost instantly by a chocked groan.

I know they are holding back. A blow like that could have easily knocked her head clear off her shoulders. Still, the hit has created a deep gash by her right eyebrow. And it is then that I realize that they had used healing stones on her. Because that wound wasn't present when we found her.

The Mogadorians who hit her adjusts the brass knuckles on his right hand and steps out of frame.

"Where is John Smith?" The question is asked again.

Sarah is leaning heavily to the right, slumped in the chair. She shakes her head and pants, "I don't know…who you're talking about."

"Ms. Hart," the main Mogadorian is losing his cool. "Everyone has their breaking point. The question is, do you want us to find yours?"

Sarah spits out the blood that has run into her mouth and does not talk.

There is a deep, almost board sigh. "Very well."

Two Mogadorians step into view. One cracks his knuckles while another rolls his shoulders. They let out two dark chuckles before they begin their assault. They throw blow after blow and I am too horrified to look away. They pause to use healing stones every so often, just so they can prolong the torture.

"I'll fast forward," Sam mutters and pushes a button on the computer. The blows blur together and the amount of time is lost.

Finally, after the time stamp in the bottom corner reaches the three hour mark, the man behind the camera gives the order to stop. The screen shakes as the small device is given to someone else to hold.

The leader steps into view again, circling Sarah's bent over form. There is a hint of respect in his pursed lips. He is surprised that she hasn't talked.

"You are very interesting, Sarah Hart." He is wearing sunglasses, and I am thankful for the kind of eyes that are hidden. "John Smith is not a part of your world. Why not give him up to stop the pain?"

There is blood running down the side of her face and she is hunched to the right in the chair. "You and I both know," she wheezes, "that you're going to kill me anyways."

The man chuckles from behind her and removes his sunglasses. He pockets them slowly and bends down.

He picks up a rusted metal bar.

"I'm not going to kill you," he says, and he places his thumb against the end of the bar and starts to file it to a point. "I'm going to use you as bait." Flakes of metal fall to the ground. "Once Number Four knows that I have you, he'll come straight to me."

"He doesn't care about me," Sarah pants. There is a sudden pain in my gut from the lie. If I didn't care about her, if I had left her alone like everyone else, then she wouldn't be down there.

The Mog crouches down in front of her. "It would be interesting for you to know that Lorien's do not love like you humans." He grins slightly.

Sarah sits up a fraction of an inch and locks eyes with him. He reaches out and grasps her chin. "A Lorien's love is forever." he whispers. "And it does not matter that you might not return his feelings. If there is any hint of affection in his heart for you, then he will come."

Sarah clenches her jaw and turns her head away.

The Mog grasps her chin harder and turns her eyes back towards him, grinning like he's found buried treasure. "There it is," he hisses. "Your eyes fail you, my dear. You love him terribly."

She spits blood in his face.

Three Mogadorians enter frame, fists poised and ready. The leader holds up a hand and they freeze. He wipes the blood off his face and grabs the back of Sarah's neck.

"You are the most admirable human I have encountered thus far," he whispers, voice shaking. "I will tell you a secret for your bravery." He leans forward and places his lips next to her ear.

For the first time, Sarah looks past the commanding Mogadorian and into the camera. It's like she's looking at me. Saying goodbye.

The man in front of her starts to mumble something inaudible. She tries to hold a composed face, but the enemy's words clearly upset her.

The next moment catches all of us off guard. In one swift motion, the Mog shoves the metal rob through Sarah's stomach. The metal slides in with a sickening sound that brings my uneaten breakfast into my throat.

Sam curses.

Six turns away.

And I can't move.

Sarah's mouth drops open and her eyes grow wide. Her face turns red as she tries to take in a breath, veins in her neck popping out from the effort. But just as quickly as it happened, the bar is ripped out and thrown to the side, discarded.

"You were a challenge, Sarah Hart," the commanding Mog sneers, "But I was always going to get what I wanted."

Sarah slumps forward in the chair, blood dripping from her mouth. A foot from off camera slams into her side and she crashes sideways. She screams as a loud pop fills the basement. I know it is her shoulder.

The Mogadorian in charge kneels and picks up Sarah's phone from where it has fallen from her pocket. He holds it up with a feral sneer, "_I win_."

He presses some buttons that will lead to the phone call Tiffany had received yesterday night. I know what happens from then on, I don't need to look at Sarah and her helpless, pleading eyes.

"Turn it off, Sam," I whisper, "I've seen enough."

"…No…" Sam mumbles, and he's so close to the screen, I fear he might actually need his father's glasses some day.

"Turn it off, Sam," I repeat firmly.

"No, I mean look at this," he points to the screen and Sarah's face. She's so tired; she can't keep her eyes open.

"Look at what?" I snap.

Sam turns to me, eyes wide. "It's Morris Code," he says in awe. "The blinking. She's sending us a message."


End file.
